Magus
by Aryuto
Summary: What is the difference between science and magic? One can be mass-produced while the other cannot. Inaho and Slaine are on a quest to become wizards via the avenue of virginity until thirty. Together, they must fight off the mistress of darkness and her army of whores who try to steal their V-cards.


**Magus Chapter 1** | _A story by Aryuto_

* * *

 _Artwork Insert_

[Leslie Odom Jr.]

Death doesn't discriminate

Between the sinners

And the saints

It takes and it takes and it takes

And we keep living anyway

We rise and we fall

And we break

And we make our mistakes

And if there's a reason I'm still alive

When everyone who loves me has died

I'm willing to wait for it

-Lin-Manuel Miranda | Hamilton | "Wait For It"

* * *

What comes first when it came to waking, the mind or the machine? In Inaho's case, he always managed to wake up a few minutes prior to the ringing of his alarm. It was on those tired days that he would wake a few seconds before. He stifled a yawn and blinked away the morning blurriness.

He gazed out the glass window of his bedroom to the blinded hallway window. Streams of morning sunshine snuck through the little cracks on the edges, rendering the fortress of night and darkness that was his den a desecrated holy space. Despite the dramatics, it was still gothic-dark outside.

Groping around blindly on the nightstand, he swiped up his smartphone to check the time. It was right then that his alarm decided to ring out his chosen soothing melody: a "bawking" chicken on a bicycle.

Shit. 5:30. I'm more tired than I thought. Well, this was expected. I went to bed at 23:37 last night anyways.

Inaho slept on a futon spread out on the cold, hardwood floor. This made it easy to get out of bed in the morning and roll into his furry blue slippers. The height of luxury and laziness.

He grabbed a change of clothes and stumbled out of his room, making his way towards the restroom. The floorboards sounded noisily in his wake. He, of course, blamed the craftsmanship. Usually, he would try to be quiet this early in the morn so that his mother could sleep. Now, she was in the hospital in critical condition.

"She must be kept in a completely sterile environment, and the hospital is the only place that can achieve that kind of cleanliness in order for her to survive. You needn't worry Inaho, we have top of the line staff and the best intensive care in Japan." Or so the doctor said.

Inaho yielded. His mother was taken away from him, but what choice did he have? No matter how many days of school he missed taking care of her could never come close to repaying the lifetime of love and care she gave him. She was the reason he was still alive. And he was the reason she was losing her life. Her condition was something beyond his capabilities, something beyond what even the most advanced medical technologies could do. He could not cure her and they could not cure her.

Nevertheless, he strived to visit her in the hospital every day. He could only stare at her from beyond the sealed glass windows. They were there for a specific reason: to keep everything out from that room, especially the tiniest microbes. It was a system that lacked the comfort of human contact.

Whenever he would visit her after school, she would always be asleep. And every time that he would stare at her from beyond the thick, glass walls, a tightening sense of despair would seize his chest.

"She's only sleeping, right hakase? She's not…is she?"

The answer was no. His mother needed the rest to fight off the microbes that weakened her body. The doctor would always try to keep an uplifting tone to reassure Inaho, but he knew, and Inaho knew what the end result was. Inaho would always think the worst had happened whenever he saw that thin, unmoving, blanket-covered body shrouded in that halo of raven hair. But when he saw the gentle rise and fall of her chest, he would breathe a sigh of relief. She's only sleeping. Forever.

Every day as he returned from visiting the hospital, he would shut the metal door to the house and sag against it until he was a curled ball of sobs and tears. Here he could cry away from the prying eyes of the world. Another day had passed and she was still living, so he himself had a reason to still live.

The sliding wooden door to the bathroom parted and the light flashed on at the sense of his movement. Inaho leant against the washbasin and stared into the water-stained mirror. His maroon eyes were baggy and tired, evidence of his late-night teary sessions. His dark hair was tousled, not from sleep, but from the lack of it. He might have been in bed at 23:37 but that didn't mean he fell asleep immediately.

Not today, he resolved. The time for crying has long past.

He finished his morning ablutions, then it was on to breakfast.

A pot of water was set to boil while he heated the frying pan. It was slicked with butter, and that was followed by four eggs cracked in successive order. He stirred and scrambled the eggs with a pair of chopsticks as soon as the yolk touched the heated metal. There were a few things that Inaho could make very well and he counted eggs as his masterpiece. The most common mistake when people make scrambled eggs is not scrambling it immediately. That makes for a faster and fluffier cooked meal.

The eggs, seasoned with soy sauce, were consumed with rice. As for the boiling water, that for his morning tea. Oolong cooled and scented, brought out the beauties of the early morn before dawn. In this way, breakfast could be justified and enjoyed without the rush of being late.

After eating, he polished off his dishes with a squirt of soap concentrate and water. The sudden scent of lemongrass hung heavily in the air.

He wiped and dried his hands then took a step outside. He met the early, frigid air in his grey patched slacks. Everything was dimly dark, but there was a lightening blue on the eastern horizon beyond the neighbouring grove of pine trees. It was here that he performed his morning stretches.

His flexible and youthful muscles were like willow as they yielded to his will and ministrations. Lunges. Butt kickers. Back stretch.

Inaho had always been a flexible child, more so than his male counterparts. He reached as high up as his arms could go upon his 164 cm frame, then bent down to touch his toes. He rested his brain's impulse to stop the pain and continued on for a good 10 seconds. It was a good kind of pain, the kind that makes exercise feel more enjoyable than torturous.

Inaho's body was rejuvenated with oxygen from the increased blood flow that came with stretching. It created the ideal body condition for working in the morning. He went back into the house and fired up his laptop. It was hooked up to a desktop monitor and an external keyboard through a tangled mass of plugs and cables. He had himself a crude but an effective makeshift desktop.

The loading screen blinked on, and after a series of lightning keystrokes tapped out a 25 character password, he was in. ASIMOV, the standard robot program immediately came online.

His middle finger flicked across the mouse's scrolling wheel and his eyes absorbed all the 92 pieces of individual code that he had created. He picked one out by the name of Odin. A glance to the corner of his screen revealed the time at 6:14. He still had a few minutes before he had to really run and catch the bus.

Let's see here. The first step, designate the integers, then begin driving forward using the mav command. There was also a part before that where the camera was turned on. The camera was calibrated to detect certain colours and that would match the conditions of his loop. See a certain colour, drive in a certain direction. Nothing too complicated, the machine's physical designs by Calm would take care of that.

He based the naming of the code and the robot on the Norse god with the single eye. He, of course, could have named it Illuminati, hence the all-seeing eye, but on the scale of badassery, Odin cinched it. He performed one final compilation to check for errors, then went to dress up. It was at that convenient time that his phone chose to ring. He glanced at the screen. Inko.

"Inaho, are you awake yet?"

Of course, it was her. Anyone could tell just who that high and sweet voice belonged to even through a device that translates analogue to digital.

"You needn't have called. I'm all set to leave."

He wasn't, but she needn't know.

"That's good. I'm just making my rounds in wake-up calls. Next up is Okisuke and you know how he wakes. See you in an hour."

"Mmh. Bye."

He spoke few words throughout that conversation. It was the same with every other conversation he had. Short, tense, and awkward. It was only with his friends that he was comfortable being vocal. It was only with his friends that he shared the condition of his mother. Inko would hug him tearfully, then Nina afterwards. Calm would pat his back and Okisuke would just stand around sheepishly and whispered, "I feel sorry for you man." They would all say their words of reassurance, and those words would only fall on deaf ears. Words weren't going to cure his mood nor his mother's.

His mother's room was directly down the hallway, just right across from his room. He had made everything in the room nice and tidy, trying to make it welcoming for his mother when she comes back home from the hospital. He couldn't bear to enter it now.

What if she doesn't come back? No, Inaho, don't think that. You can't possibly think that.

He reached a hand up to the brass doorknob. The metal was cold and frozen to the touch. He twisted it. The wooden door was picket-fence white, and when you peered inside, the four-cornered walls were an eggshell white as well. The neatly folded bed sheets were woolen-white, and even the fan in the corner was plastic-white. There were few sparks of colour to this simplistic room. The rising sun was beginning to break through the cloud covers and illuminated the room with light. The whitewashedness of the room resembled that of a hospital. From that, it wasn't hard to imagine that a sick person had been living here.

Inaho opened the single window in that white room to let in fresh air and left abruptly with the door slamming. He couldn't stand to be in there anymore. Bad thoughts tend to linger.

Back in his room, he shed off his pyjamas and slapped on a white shirt emblazoned with his school's Robotics logo printed in black. The dark cargo shorts were a manner of debate. He checked the weather on his phone and it was going to stay around 22 C in midday. That, however, didn't suit the chilly 18 C right now.

He evaluated the temporary chill of his lower extremities for quick mobility that he'll need in between bus transfers. Plus, it was fashionably better as outgoing apparel than khaki slacks. Next was the black cap with the Robotics game design, which he deign to flip backwards and tilted low enough that a few strands of his dark, unruly hair stuck out in the front. Complete the outfit with long black socks and he believed that he was socially attractive as a young and hip teenager.

6:47. He really needed to leave now if he intended to take the hour-long bus ride at 7:00 and get there by the designated time of 8:00.

He rushed out and snatched his laptop, popping all the cords and appliances still attached to it and stuffed it mindlessly into its case. If one was bringing electronic appliances anywhere for long periods of time, then portable chargers are a must. One for his phone and one for his laptop were placed in the outside pocket. As an afterthought, he brought along a folder filled with his schoolwork. He carried his metal thermos in his other free hand.

Before dashing out the door, he was reminded of one final thought. He approached his mother's room and held up his door as if to knock, but lowered it as if to take it back. Instead, he whispered, "I'm going to win this competition mum. For you." His wishes were ushered into thin air, but he was sure his mother heard and whatever God out there heard as well. He cracked a smile. This is my promise.

Stepping out, he couldn't help but notice what a fine morning it was. The sun shone like a heavenly disc in the sky, spreading down aching tendrils of warmth towards the chilled skin and hearts of the residents of Shinawara. Swallow-tailed sparrows danced across the horizon and crows flew east in search of food for their hatchlings. He was sure the air was pierced with their chirping and birdsong, but they only fell on his deaf ears. There was a silence that spelt dread this morning, a void that threatened to spill over his world.

6:51. He ran like he was running away from hell.

Let me tell you a few things about public transportation for you fortunate, wealthy kids out there who have parents with time on their hands to chauffer you around. Earphones are a must. Even if you don't have a mp3 capable phone, they are absolutely necessary. Reason? For warding off strangers.

Inaho had forgotten his earphones when he left the house. They were laying innocently on his desk somewhere. He wasn't even sure. Now, he was sitting here in this nasty smelling seat with regret on his mind.

No matter what type of person you are, social magnet or social hermit, you do not want to be approached by a homeless person who's touched in the head who seems to think that he has the God-given right to suddenly start talking to you.

A conspiracy theorist he was and he talked about education. He seemed to mistake Inaho's youth, or maturity, as that of a college student when he was only a third year in high school. Inaho went with it, though. The man argued that there was no possible way college could benefit you if you were poor. The debt in student loans will cripple you for life. He said that if Inaho knew what was good for him, he would drop out of college right now.

"You can still lead a normal life, a prosperous life without college. Go into a specialisation, a trade school, whatever gets you the skills you need to succeed in life. They don't teach you jack-shit in college, like how to do your taxes."

Kind of a hard thing to say to a boy who was taught his whole life that a college education was the key to social mobility. As soon as the bus came to the next stop, he got up and offered his seat to an elderly man in a wheelchair and went to the back of the bus. There was always a time for a conversation to end. After all, he wasn't known for keeping a conversation going.

As soon as he stepped off the bus, he could already feel the sheer difference in temperature from an hour ago. The heat had already overwhelmed the border of morning coolness and turned into an uncomfortable sort-of-hot if you stayed outside for too long. Humidity was an incessant layer of glue that clung to his exposed skin.

He hurried inside the vast gym of the school where he hoped there was air conditioning. 8:02. He was running a bit late for the setup.

Inside there was a stifling mass and ominous rush of bodies. It was a struggle to make one's way past the crowded entrance where sign-ins take place. He ignored the long lines and table rows where frantic clerks jotted down names and flipped through the pages of their assigned clipboards, and walked through the gray-painted double doors.

Once inside, he could see the once proud and open polished floors of the basketball courts were cluttered with game tables. Wires and plugs were snakes that crisscrossed the floor, hungry and searching for an electrical outlet. The overhead lights beamed down like the eyes of God. Here he would forge his fate on the battlefield.

There was a clear divide between where the game took [place and where the many school teams set up last-minute rest stops for their robots. It was a blur and multitude of activity and collaboration as students younger than Inaho rushed about with chassis in hand. He couldn't help but give admiration to the system that brought all this talent to one place in order to be showcased.

Out of the corner of his eye in, he saw someone stand on top of one of the many cheap plastic chairs. He was waving in his general direction, with both arms shaking sporadically and vigorously. He would've described it as "waving madly" if he didn't know any better.

"Is that guy okay? He's not entirely sane is he?" He received a buzzing text in his pocket. It read, "Come to Okisuke. He's waving at you." Nina, of course, would cover for her shameful friend. Then he realised that the person who was waving was Okisuke. Oh. If he could strain his ears just right, he was trying to call out his name through this crowd. Inaho closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and walked towards them. Shameless.

"Yo Inaho, you're a bit late. C'mon, we need to test this thing out."

"Mmh." Getting right down to work. "I trust you've streamlined the interface like I asked you to? Get rid of the aesthetics, and trade that in for utility."

"Ahh, I got that covered." This time, it was Calm who interjected.

Calm wasn't much of a designer when it came to mechanics. But Nina was. She was the Art in the STEAM acronym and they just had to have her around. Her last proposal for Odin was to place a decorative elevator extension for the camera eye. The all-seeing eye of the Illuminati. And a decorative banner that included 2 US dollar bills glued front to front so that the rear-facing pyramids were proudly shown. Again, shameless.

"Yeah, I've got everything in. You sure this code will work?"

"I've placed in all the combat interfaces in the case that we'll need it. I'm more concerned about your part. Was 3-D printing the armour plating really necessary?" Inaho ran a critical eye over the robot. "I mean, it's as minimalist as female armour in RPGs."

Calm was about to argue, but gave pause and took back whatever he was going to say. "Hmm, you right. But we're definitely winning that Best Design award."

Inaho sighed. He very much doubted the integrity of this armour when it came to dealing with blows from the enemy team. And if they did manage to score a direct hit, there goes ¥90,000 worth of equipment.

"I mean, we've gotta have something for Nina to do and she's great at designing."

"I think she did it well." Inko came and laid a hand on the robot. "Look at its sleekness, it's so chic. Something you can only find at a Shiseido store."

He blurred his eyes in sarcasm. "I love how we're comparing a non-human object to feminine beauty brands."

"Well it doesn't matter guys, we can't change it now with the amount of time until the games start. We're going to have to work with it."

"Calm, you always know how to give a pep talk."

"Don't count on it too much to earn us a victory, Okisuke. The trials begin at 8:45. It might seem like an excessive amount of time, but we've spent over two months designing this thing, this…Odin…so that it could achieve its final form of barely working perfection."

"It's mediocre at best."

"Great confidence, Inaho. That's what we need!"

Calm ushered him to the side and hissed, "You know this could've gone a lot smoother if we joined the builders with the programmers and had them work side by side."

"That would've offered too many distractions and a less coordinated form of management. The programmers preferred separation."

"You mean you prefer working alone."

"I won't deny that either."

Calm was the president of their Robotics club and named Inaho as VP in an act of dictatorship. It was hardly an election. Calm had basically inherited the club over from his older brother after he graduated from high school and it was only their little friend group that he called over as members. Calm and Inaho managed the building and programming teams respectively. Next came Inko as secretary, Okisuke as treasurer, and Nina as designs director.

How did their little friend group come to comprise the entirety of their school's Robotics club? Well, it was due to a lack of interest from other students. Their high-school was Liberal Arts oriented, not STEM. They simply lacked the facilities necessary to carry these activities out and so they had to go over to the mechanical lab down the streets for necessary equipment and expertise. They had some amazing tutors from that mechanic's lab and they were here now, in the bleacher stands, come to cheer them on.

For now, they had to get back to work. Inaho powered on his laptop from sleep mode and endured the slow startup time. He could've sworn the whole thing ran 15 seconds faster before the new update to the current OS of ASIMOV 10. He'll just have to take it in stride.

"Calm, fetch me a micro-USB cable."

He hooked the robot up to the computer and ran the compilation software one last time before downloading the Odin code. Calm stood by him and couldn't help himself when shouting, "Fusion of man and machine, activated!" when the little indicator flashed 'Success!'

His movements were quick and sure as he unplugged the robot and held it out to Calm.

"There you go, Mister President. Wanna test it out on the practice game board while we still can?"

Calm smiled and took the proffered block of plastic and metal bracings from Inaho. "Inko's already waiting for us on the waiting list."

"Geez, I didn't know there was a line."

They both fell in step with each other and tried to navigate the mixed mass of little kids and towering teenagers. Crawling like ants on a mound. Everyone knew where they were going, and despite the confusion, they always end up getting to their final destination.

"It is common courtesy in this world of first come, first, serve. Try to get here earlier next time." Calm winked at the frown of displeasure on Inaho's face.

"I swear I detected a hint of exasperation there."

"Don't feel too bad, champ. I've got high hopes for you and this thing!"

"It's Odin." Inaho corrected.

Calm brushed it away indifferently. "Right, right. It's your Odin and my Illuminati."

The Robotics game rules changed every year with a new set of missions that your robot is supposed to perform. This year's theme was the Maze Runner where the robots from the enemy teams start on the opposite sides and had to race to get to the other side or their finish line. The robots would encounter each other eventually somewhere in the middle passage. At that point, they have the option of fighting to the death for fame and glory in mortal combat. Both were fair avenues to victory.

Each maze board was randomised and uniquely different. There were 5 game boards in total, and whichever team was called up might end up in a different one than last time.

This particular type of Robotics included just a string of code to pair with a robot. There was to be no user input during the game, creating what was effectively a fully autonomous system that can think for itself and achieve the designated task independently. A really tall task when you have to consider that the robots have to navigate a maze that you know nothing about prior to competition day. In the short time span you have in preparations, the programmer needs to take in all accounts of the 5 different fields and come up with a working algorithm…or two…or five to get the robot to the end.

Luckily, Inaho didn't have to worry about any of that. Through the use of an infrared sensor…well that would almost be cheating if it wasn't allowed, but the amount of effort required made the imbalance well worth it.

There was hardly a line when they got to the tables. It seems everyone was occupied with other things. Nevertheless, they were forced to take a seat in one of the many empty seats in the waiting area until he and Calm were ushered in by the judges. Only two people from each team were allowed during practice and actual competition rounds.

"You ready for this?"

"Ready as when the first iPhone was made."

"You joke too well. Alright then, device and code, please don't fail me now." Calm flicked on the lamp switch and positioned Odin's light sensors directly in front of the lamp. The robots were also instructed to being operative upon the turn of the light, as to complete the user-free experience.

That part was the only thing that bewildered Inaho – how to set the code for the light. Out of all the pieces of code he had mastered, managing a simple remote light sensor was something he hadn't covered.

And so that part was left to Okisuke, who was in charge of documentation and knew next to nothing about code, to solve it. He was the one who actually took the time to go to the orientation workshop for this year's competition and watch that tidbit in the slides presentation. Where was Inaho during this time? At home with his sick mother.

His face burned and he turned his head to the side in shame. All that Calm could hear from him was a mumbling of apologies.

"You're still upset about that light switch, huh? It's alright. It's not your fault. Your mum is more important than us; I know that's hard to say, right?" he grinned from ear to ear, "but you're our friend Inaho. You're the best damn coder we've got. I would never blame you for anything." Calm laid a reassuring hand on his shoulders.

He stared deeply into Inaho's eyes until Inaho could see his dark pupils surrounded by that halo of sky blue irises. He could just about make out the different dimples on his face.

"I want you to promise me something."

"Anything."

"When we win, I want you to take the trophy and awards with you and head straight home to show your mum."

"What makes you so sure we're going to win?"

Calm gave pause and glanced upwards to one of the blinding eyes of God. "You can call it intuition. A gut feeling, ya know?"

Inaho could understand that. Fate and faith had a lot of claim in his life right now, after throwing reasoning and logic out the door due to their ineffectiveness in his mother's case. The science would declare her dead in no time, but the religion would say she still had hope, and if not that, she can enjoy a happy afterlife.

"We're done," Calm said. "And in record time too! 37 seconds Inaho will you look at that?"

"Huh?" Inaho shook himself out of his reverie. Nowadays, his thoughts usually wandered.

Odin had started from their side of the board and suddenly it was on the other side, parked perfectly and positioned correctly. That last part was a little trick Inaho wanted to perform for aesthetics.

Like magic.

To be truthful, Inaho didn't know where his talent for code came from. It was his natural intuition, like Calm, has a natural intuition for predicting victory. All he knew was that the ability was there, and didn't think much of where it came from or what caused it. Just use it.

They took Odin back from the opposite end of the table and signed the forms to the judges of their registration. Their team was the Midnight Mechanics.

Inaho sat at their table cluttered with the many cases of robot parts. There were screwdrivers and screws in his immediate vicinity, but he wasn't working with them. Instead, he was reading the style analysis essay he had typed up about the literary review of the American novel, _Grapes of Wrath_ by John Steinbeck. It was part of his English course at his bilingual school to match any native English speaker in proficiency and facility.

It was a useful skill considering that Japan is an entirely mono-ethnic culture with hardly any other minorities around. The U.S., or the predecessor of the current Versperian Empire, held a great influence upon Japan even after the current turn of events to radical dictatorship in the country. Military bases were still being maintained, diplomatic and economic ties still remained stronger than ever, but people now had a fear of the invaders. A subtle fear that the peace that had endured for 70 years since the last World War would finally shatter.

Inaho planned on attending a Versperian university all the same. That country still held the title as the capital of higher education, despite their lacking secondary education system. All the more, the better, as foreign students wouldn't get that much competition from the mediocre natives.

He had the leisure to work on his homework. That was what competitions were for, you do the work beforehand and you do other stuff on hand. His friends would take care of the scoring and elimination round, but they swore he had to come during the finals.

A hand grasped his laptop lid and shut it closed. A hand with painted nails and a plastic pink stone bracelet.

"Nina, what are you doing?"

"It's the final competition round, Inaho! You should get going."

"Wai-whut? It's that time already?"

"Yes, yes, yes!" she nearly screamed in excitement, hopping up and down. Never before has an image of a teenage fangirl been more embedded than this. She hauled him out of his chair and dragged him up to the seating area, where the rest of the crowd was.

Everyone leant in, trying to get a glimpse, a picture, or a better look of the final battlefield. Calm was already up there negotiating with the judges for more time. He was stalling for me.

Then he caught Inaho's eyes and nodded back to the judges as if to say that they were ready. Inaho rushed over to their side of the opposing table.

"What's going on?" he panted.

Calm pointed to the other team where two boys stood. "Those two are trouble.'

"How so? They don't look that impressive to me?"

One of the boys was a head taller than Calm, and Calm was a good 5 cm taller than Inaho. The shorter one had a pair of glasses fixated to his face. He stared at the duo that was Inaho and Calm with a curious expression as if admiring them as interesting creatures before crushing them like a child would to a bug.

"That's what you say now, but I've been paying attention to them throughout this whole time."

"Why, cause you think the taller one's cute?" The taller boy had a head of long, straight hair dyed a chestnut brown. His nose was sharp and his face angular like that of an on looking hawk.

Calm only stared at him. "You, my friend, have a queer sense of humour. Anyways, they've been winning their past competition through the brutality method. Their robot has been too good at thoroughly demolishing the opponent's so that they have no chance to come back in for their second round of eliminations."

Inaho glanced back at Calm. "Well then, Craftman, I hope your 3D printed armour stands up to the task."

"Kaizuka, just pray that your code allows ours to get by without a hitch. This board is of particular interest too, it's a little different than all the others we've seen before. Able to tell the difference?"

Inaho raked his maroon eyes over the new board. Calm was right, there were a few things there. The regular obstacles were removed and replaced with new contraptions. Contraptions that would test out the integrity of Odin to its limits. For instance, in the centre of the board where the two robots were likely to meet was a platform that hoisted a brick half a metre above. A motion sensor was set up in the middle so that if any robot happened to pass through, it would release the brick down and quite possibly crush the expensive piece of electronics.

This was the problem with this kind of Robotics. "Is it just me, or are the creators getting crazier every year?"

"I don't know about that, but they're sure getting richer if they can offer to give every participant in this competition a brand new chassis and build kit. I can't complain." Calm was right. The majority of the entrants were amateur schools just starting out who wanted to get the new model robot. Inaho frankly had no appeal for newer things. Use the old one till it breaks. That would be his motto, but in this instance, it had a very high percentage of coming true.

There were other traps along the way and Inaho hoped that his infrared sensor would pick them up and avoid them. At this point, he didn't even know what he included in his code. It was all so complex that everything was lost to memory.

"Well, we'll just have to pray now, right?"

"Right."

The judges walked back to them with a clipboard with their team descriptions.

"Alright, you're up against the Holy Cows. Just sign here please," and Calm scratched down his messy script into the little discreet box on the pink paper sheet, "and I'd like both teams to inspect one another's robots. If any inconsistency arrives, please report it to us."

They walked along the left side of the board while the Holy Cows walked along the right side.

"Inaho, you go inspect their robot. I'll be on the lookout for whatever they're going to try on Odin." Inaho glanced back to see the little one with the glasses poking his finger at the infrared sensor.

"Well, I never liked lanky people with glasses anyways."

The Holy Cows' robot was a peculiar thing. All robots were designed with the same chassis model, but this one was huge like a black mastiff. Everything about it screamed an obsession with the dark colour from the metal bracings to the stone grinder.

"Wait, they're allowed to use a pestle?" Inaho raised his hand and asked one of the judges with a white cap.

"Anything that fits the required dimensions of 15 by 10 cm as the weapon," he said with his clipboard clasped behind his back as if this was a common question other people had asked multiple times before.

So this was what they've been using to crush the other bot.

Next up for inspection was the camera. It was a double pairing of infrared with digital, similarly equipped like theirs.

The infrared sensor helps to determine distances. The many walls in the maze were all separated at different distances and the infrared sensor could see through that. By determining distances using a full scan of the board, he could effectively sketch out a map in the robots' mind of the arena. Cross compare that with the digital camera, and the Odin could see which one was directly in front, or real, as the robot could see, and which walls were farther away. There would always be one correct path in a maze and the robot would just have to follow it.

"I believe you've seen enough," the larger boy said as he came up behind Inaho. "We're finished inspecting yours." The last word came out like a spat, a sneer at their supposed inferiority.

"Why I was just admiring what a work of art yours is." What a rather unpleasant fellow.

"Do you know what a work of art is? Your robot. After ours have crushed it." What a rather brutish fellow.

"You see here…I didn't quite catch your name."

He smiled thinly. "Oh, you'll hear it soon enough when the crowd starts chanting the song of our victory."

"Well, Mr Holy Cow, art is something quite relative to the observer in what they see as beautiful. Your robot…"

"It's Atlas."

"Well, Atlas is a magnificent specimen. For now. Art can change in value depending on the tastes and the time."

"Alright! Both teams, shake hands." The judge with the white cap said.

Mr Holy Cow came up with his large, meaty hands and grasped Inaho's smaller palms into a tight squeeze as if to crush it. "I heard yours was called Odin. Don't you worry, we'll take out the other eye for you."

"Likewise."

Next came the lanky kid with the glasses. He was just about Inaho's height, which was all good since Inaho didn't have to glance up so high as Mr Holy Cow's face was.

Inaho leant in and whispered, "You play dirty."

He only smiled and glanced at Inaho with his real eyes under the horn-rimmed glasses. "We always wash our hands before touching the golden cup."

Inaho wrung out his hands as if to shake out the pain given by Mr Holy Cow. Calm came up to him and accompanied him back. "Well, how were they?"

"They were absolute darlings," he muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Calm shrugged his shoulders as if he couldn't help it, "Let's get this over with shall we." He and Inaho walked back a few steps from the board before the judges called for the incandescent lamps to be turned on.

"3, 2, 1. Go!"

And they were off, Odin swivelled its camera back and forth first before determining a set path to follow. Its wheels started rolling, the left wheel faster than the right. It then veered around in the opposite direction to round a bend.

From where they were watching, Inaho and Calm saw the first trap as a coiled spring that if rushed head on would propel Odin backwards. There was no way out of this.

Then miraculously, Odin, swivelled to the left side of the wall and gently touched the spring. It rebounded, but only pushed Odin back a few inches.

"That little thing locked its brakes to avoid the impact!" the commentator boomed on the speakers. "And there it goes, rushing ahead past the debris. And look ahead guys, it's just zipping around corners, rounding dead ends, it's like a little wizard knowing exactly where to go and I don't even know where to go in this maze!"

Calm leant in close to Inaho's ear and whispered, "Their bot is called Atlas. Look how it's taking care of things."

Inaho turned his attention away from Odin to Atlas, where the heavily armoured and armed robot was making its way through. Atlas as the Greek Titan who held up the sky was meant to undergo intense pain and struggle. The robot with his namesake was just bulldozing past everything, the traps having minimal effect.

The problem with Atlas was that it was bogged down with added mass. Its motors struggled to crank the thing out as fast as it can, and its infrared sensors kept rotating every few seconds. Its movements were jerky, one second going to the left, and the other going to the right.

"It's not following the course. It's following Odin."

Odin as the smaller robot was making this maze a dandy stroll in the park. It was nearing the centre where the brick trap stood. Once it came to that corridor in the centre of the board, it froze and assessed the situation for a few seconds.

"I only meant for it to count things on the flat ground, not anything above its height."

Calm sighed and bit his nails in a fit of nervousness. "Now would be a good time to turn religious."

Odin sped forward at max speed, its little motors humming and spitting madly as it gained maximum traction. The speed gate registered it and released the platform holding the brick. The red rectangle fell and clipped the back of Odin, taking down the infrared camera.

"Ooh," the commentator shouted. "Odin has just lost a camera. Oh, no, how will this thing function now, huh kid? You tell me." The commentator rushed forward to Inaho for a response on his microphone.

He took a few seconds to think before responding, "Well…we'll just have to wait and see." He wasn't staring at the commentator or the crowd, he was staring at Mr Holy Cow and his glassed associate.

"A bold challenge that was, folks! Let's see how this pans out."

The commentator was just another preacher spreading the good faith of the Lord over the speaker. His voice was booming and annoying, giving Inaho a headache if he paid too much attention to it for too long. Instead, he focused on how the battle was going to go.

As long as Odin has the digital camera in the front, it could tell where everything was in the immediate vicinity. Fortunately, Inaho told it to store the map in its head. The maze wasn't going to change, the maze and the traps were constant. What worried him though was Atlas. It could no longer tell where the moving Atlas was, and thus couldn't avoid it.

"9.8 metres per second, per second," Calm whispered. "Damn. That brick must have weighed a kilogramme to knock that thing out."

"I know the force of gravity was ridiculous combined with that height and that mass, but we can still do this. Odin can still keep going."

Alas, it was. From their vantage point, Atlas had closed up the passageway to where the finish line was for Odin. It had its grinder aimed high and above, ready for whacking down on the CPC controller's screen so that it would black out and malfunction.

Mr Holy Cow and Mr Glasses were engaged in a deep conversation, giggling occasionally as they glanced back at the progress of the game board. Calm complained, "I don't like how they're just crowding around there, plotting evil."

Inaho raised an eyebrow, "Freedom of assembly, Calm?"

"I know that," he grumbled. "What other things did you assess about Atlas's combat methods? At this point, we have no choice but to engage."

"I'm not entirely sure. There was this inner compartment attached to the bottom, but I didn't get a chance to investigate what was in it because Mr Holy Cow there cut my inspection short."

There was a loud screeching from the speakers as the commentator raised his voice a bit too high. "Whoops, sorry there folks, but Odin is rounding the corner now to face Atlas. The final showdown has begun! Pay close attention to what both masterful robots will engage in the ultimate fight, mortal combat!" The crowd was egged on by the man's words, breaking down into a mob screaming and shouting for blood and smashed limbs, err, robot parts.

Calm pulled his nails away from his mouth out of sub conscience and held his hands under his armpits. He had given up on worrying now and was just waiting for it to be over. He gazed back at Inaho's stare and asked, "What?"

He smiled. "Have a bit more faith, will ya?"

Odin rushed forward and one of its claws drew a blue Lego lightsaber from its sides. Its wheels spurred it onwards before it turned to the side to avoid the grinder as it came down. The plastic lightsaber parried away the other claw gripping a thin screwdriver designed to poke out one of the cameras.

"And both bots have now engaged in combat. The lightsaber is a nice touch, boys. Join the Dark Side!" And he started doing the Darth Vader breathing mask. "Now this one's for Atlas. Luke, I am your father."

"Actually, it's, 'No, I am your father,'" Inaho muttered out of the corner of his breath. This man was beyond idiotic. Can't he see the situation they're in? Hundreds of dollars of equipment were placed into robot fighting and he can only reference a movie series.

The grinder came down again and slammed onto one of the bracings, taking it out even though it was screwed tightly shut.

"Yeezus, how much strength did the company design their robots with?" Calm almost cried. His precious defence system was being dismantled before his eyes, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Odin reversed its wheels in the opposite direction, before coming back in for another charge, this time, and its second claw drawing out the second green lightsaber. It gathered enough momentum to carry it to the side of Atlas and swung both plastic swords into Atlas's side, driving it into a corner, leaving just enough space for Odin to squeeze through.

"And Odin's through everyone! They've done it! The Midnight Mechanics have gotten through the Holy Cow's blockade and is speeding through to the finish line. There is no way that awkward mass of metal will be able to catch up to them now! Annnnnd gooooooal!"

Well, it wasn't soccer, but Inaho cracked a smile as Calm cheered his cry of victory. The whole crowd burst into cries as they rooted for the underdogs to win. Inaho was lifted high up into the air by Calm and he shouted in surprise.

"Man, put me down! Put me down!" But he didn't mind. This sort of attention was…refreshing for once.

Inko, Nina, and Okisuke came rushing over from the stands towards them, and they were chanting, "Mid-night Mech-an-ics" over and over.

The golden cup of victory was brought over to them, and it shone with the words, "1st Place Shinawara Robotics."

Calm absolutely refused to set down his best goddamn coder and they ran piggyback towards their table where the whole team crowded around the Holy Grail.

"Bragging rights huh? THAT'S the ultimate prize." Nina whispered.

At that point, there was a buzzing in Inaho's pocket. His phone. He picked it up and looked at the caller ID. His aunt?

"Hello?"

"My goodness, Nao-kun, I've been trying to reach you for over an hour now. It's your mother. The hospital called. She's…-" Inaho feared the worst, but he pressed on, hoping, desperately hoping for that spark of optimism.

"She's alright, right? She's getting discharged?"

"-dying."

His phone dropped to the floor and a spider web of cracks blossomed from the point of the first impact.

Pride always came before the fall, huh?


End file.
